Exile: A Tale of Redwall
by Th3Gh0stWr1ter
Summary: Mossflower has fallen under the control of trade companies known as Guilds, but everything changes when a mousemaid from Redwall meets a refugee from a distant land.
1. The Shanwu

A/N: For the past six months, I've been writing a new series that I am very passionate about. I've always toyed with ideas of Mossflower developing as a civilization, and Redwallers coming in contact with creatures from entirely different lands and backgrounds. This series intends to roll all of that together. Happy reading! ~The Ghost Writer

* * *

**Exile: A Tale of Redwall**

* * *

**Prologue**

His footpaws pounded through the shallow snow, echoing across the barren meadow.

His breath came in ragged gasps, visible in the chilly air.

The mouse was running.

For days, he had sped across frozen flatlands with remarkable speed. The terrain had seemed endless at first, but on the fourth day, when the expansive treeline came into view, he knew he was getting somewhere.

Now it was the beginning of day six. With each step the forest seemed to grow deeper and more foreign. The familiar, unbearable monotony was beginning to set in again. Every tree was starting to look the same; standing there yet to be liberated from their wintry veil, silently judging his every move.

Yet war raged in his mind. Agonized screams and admonishments of what could have been tore at the remains of his sanity. The blood coursing through his veins was simultaneously boiling with rage and frozen with fear. Everything, both within and without, was blending together.

The Second Mount. That was where he had to go. All he knew was that it lay to the east, home to refugees fleeing the war back home – refugees like him. They would help him; maybe even join his cause.

He made a resolution then and there: to dwell on the past was pointless; from this day forward he was to focus only on what lay ahead.

The sea.

Home.

Revenge.

He didn't notice the pair of foxes sneaking up behind him until it was too late. Stars exploded in his vision as something heavy struck him upside the head. The mouse fell, unconscious before he hit the ground.

* * *

**Book 1: Fugitives**

* * *

**Chapter 1: The Shanwu**

Spring was coming early to Redwall Abbey. The snows retreated, giving way to soil and sunshine as the days grew longer. The trees in the orchard glistened as the ice on their branches melted. Sparse birdsong floated over the ancient sandstone walls, captivating all who would listen.

Fione the mousemaid was up at the crack of dawn. She got dressed, put up her fiery ginger headfur in a messy ponytail, and placed a small linen-wrapped parcel in a travel pack on her belt. Grabbing her trusty staff off the far wall, she headed downstairs, ready for a new day.

The kitchen staff was already preparing breakfast as Fione entered the Great Hall. Delectable smells tickled her nosetip as she walked on by. A single tray, containing a pot of steaming rosehip tea and a plate of fresh scones spread with blackberry preserve, sat waiting for her on one of the long tables, for Friar Flubb had gotten tired long ago of the mousemaid bursting in and asking for food.

As she had done every day for seasons, Fione picked up the tray and continued outside. The snow on the Abbey Lawns crunched beneath her boots while she precariously balanced the tray on her free paw. Finally, she arrived at the Gatehouse, built into the wall near the Abbey's front entrance. Reaching over with her staff, she knocked three times on the ancient door.

"Door's either locked and I'm sleeping, or it's unlocked and I'm awake, depending on who you are," sounded a gruff voice from within.

Fione chuckled. "It's me, Brother Eryalus."

"Then the door's unlocked, young 'un. Come on in," the voice called, a lot friendlier now. Careful not to drop the food, Fione entered, closing the door behind her so as not to let in the cold. The musty scent of aging wood and ancient parchments was a stark contrast to the chilly morning air outside. Making her way past endless piles of books littering the floor, she eventually came across the perpetually-disheveled, potbellied squirrel known as Brother Eryalus. Redwall's Gatekeeper-Historian-Recorder-Archivist was seated in his favorite chair, poring over his latest literary fancy.

"Morning! I brought your favorite," chirped Fione, setting the tray on a desk littered with scrolls.

Eryalus looked up from his book, his green eyes twinkling behind his square glasses which hung delicately at the tip of his graying muzzle. "Many thanks, young'un. Is that rosehip tea I smell?"

"Good for your fur and skin. Keeps you looking young and your joints free of arthritis," recited the mousemaid as she poured him a cup and handed it to him.

The aging squirrel took a sip. "Well, it's working so far." He tried to rise, but Fione stopped him.

"Don't trouble yourself. I got it!" She tossed another log into the hearth, watching the dying fire roar back to life. Taking the knife included on the tray, the mousemaid carefully spread blackberry preserve over a scone, handing it to Eryalus. "Here you go! Enjoy!"

Eryalus leaned back in his chair. "Ahh, nothing like a warm fire and a nice breakfast."

Taking a scone for herself, Fione leaned on her staff. "Wotcha got there?" she asked, her mouth full.

The Gatekeeper's voice contained a Dibbun-like excitement. "Well, I've been up all night reading _A Briefe Historie of the Guosim_. Absolutely fascinating glimpse into how a few scattered shrewtribes evolved into what it is today. Want to hear about it?"

"Aye, when I get back from work," said Fione. Eryalus could go on about forever about other cultures. "Speaking of books..." the mousemaid removed the parcel from her travel pack and placed it in his paws. "This is for you," she said, smiling.

The Gatekeeper unwrapped the parcel and nearly fell out of his chair. Fione couldn't help but smile as Eryalus rose, holding the gift up like some sort of sacred tome.

"_Seventie Shanwu Folke Tales from the Heavenly Empire of Jiangshan, Translated by Brother Khong_! Fione, I've been looking for this book for seasons!"

Fione beamed. "It's all yours. I figured you'd like it."

"Like it, young 'un? I _love_ it!" the squirrel exclaimed, seizing the mousemaid's shoulders. "How did you even find this? I thought the Guilds had banned the Shanwu from trading in their markets!"

"I found it lying in a pile of turnips at the marketplace the other day!" Fione babbled, her own voice rising with excitement. "The merchant didn't want to get in trouble for selling it to me, so he let me have it for free!"

Book in paw, the squirrel scrambled up a ladder leaning against one of the many bookshelves covering the walls. "Oh, I'm going to have so much fun reading this! Which reminds me: I need to get rid of that horrid piece of sensationalism. What was it called…_A Detailed Fielde Studie on the Shanwu, or, the Jiangshan Race_, written by some fraud who never once left Mossflower in his entire life! Huh! I'd much rather read about the Shanwu from their own perspective."

Fione knew the book well. _A Detailed Fielde Studie _was the only resource on the Shanwu available on the market, cobbled together from what looked to be a hodgepodge of writers going by various pen names, and stamped with the Guilds' ubiquitous seal of approval. Most Redwallers had read this book, and believed its content. She and Eryalus did not, and had spent many a snowed-in afternoon sipping tea and laughing at the book's glaring inconsistencies, such as in Chapter One:

_The Shanwu are an industrious race hailing from a vast and complex civilization._

And then in Chapter Nine:

_The Shanwu are an indolent people who have never bothered to construct a vocabulary beyond a pawful of syllables._

Sometimes the information took a darker turn, as found in Chapter Fourteen:

_The Shanwu are cannibals, who eat their own young._

Eryalus found the book and threw it to the mousemaid. "Here, young 'un, toss this rag in the fire!"

Fione did so gladly, watching as the flames licked up around the prominent piece of propaganda.

"Now for some _real _literature," said the Gatekeeper, climbing down the ladder. "Thanks, young 'un. Your parents would be so proud."

As Eryalus settled back in his chair to enjoy his new book, Fione took out the tiny silver locket she always wore around her neck and opened it, gazing at the twin portraits within. A pair of mice, one male, and one female, gazed back at the mousemaid, their expressions frozen in enamel.

The door to the Gatehouse opened and in sauntered a mouse with snowy-white fur. He was tall and fit, clad in an embroidered tunic and trousers made from the finest thread. With his groomed blond headfur and chiseled jaw, he could even have been considered handsome, if one could overlook the permanent sneer etched upon his features.

Eryalus closed his book. Fione tucked the locket back under her tunic.

"Good morning, Brother Eryalus," said the newcomer, carelessly knocking over a stack of volumes blocking his way. "Morning, Freckles."

"Don't call me Freckles," Fione growled.

The mouse let out a dry chuckle. "Why not? You have freckles, don't you?"

The mousemaid glared at him.

"What do you want, Conor?" asked Eryalus, keeping his voice level.

The mouse called Conor helped himself to a scone. "I'm here to inform you that the Guildmasters' banquet is tonight. The Abbot requires that all Redwallers be present."

Eryalus folded his arms. "Why? So we can watch him hand the Guilds _more_ trade concessions?"

"Trade _agreements_," said Conor. "_Mutual_ agreements. Besides – " He took a bite out of his scone, winced, and spit it out on the floor, " – we grow the finest wheat in Mossflower, and come this autumn's harvest your food will taste a lot better." He noted the Gatekeeper's bulging belly. "Not that you mind."

Eryalus waved a stern paw at the impudent mouse. "You'll show some respect to your elders, young 'un."

Conor just sneered. "It's you who'll be showing respect to me once I become Abbot around here. And I _will _become Abbot. Father gave me his word."

Fione wanted to hit Conor with her staff.

"I want everybeast at dinner tonight," said Conor. "That means you too, Freckles."

The mousemaid pushed past him. "Don't worry. I'll be back in time for your precious dinner."

"Careful out there. I know many a Shanwu who'd want to paw a young maid's flesh," the blond mouse called after her.

"I'm not even going in that direction, you pervert!" Fione yelled before storming out.

Conor smirked at the scowling Recorder. "Well, I should inform the other Abbeydwellers about tonight. Good day." He tossed the unfinished scone on Eryalus' plate and left, leaving the Gatehouse door wide open.

* * *

Fione's anger had worn off by the time she had trekked into the forest. It was a cloudless morning; windless and warm for a late winter's day. She simply could not stay angry on a morning like this.

Firewood collection was deemed to be one of the lowliest professions in Mossflower. But for Fione, it was the ideal job. The abundance of trees made it easy to meet her daily quota, after which she was free to do as she pleased. Not to mention that many large branches and limbs littered the earth after each winter, making her task almost effortless. By midday she had collected enough wood, which she tied up into three bundles and left by an old, dead elm tree for later. The rest of the day was hers.

Stopping briefly at a thawing stream to refill her canteen, the mousemaid savored the crisp, cool taste of water on her lips. Then she was off, traveling west.

By early afternoon, she had reached a meadow still blanketed with snow. Sitting down with her back against a rock, the mousemaid took out her sketchpad and a piece of charcoal and began to draw the beautiful sight in front of her. Fione knew it would be only a matter of time before the Guilds cleared this land for road development.

It was when she descended the gentle hill leading into the clearing that she noticed something on the ground a short distance ahead. As she drew closer, Fione realized that it was a body of a male mouse lying facedown in the snow. The back of the creature's head was caked in blood. Fresh tracks beside him led off to the right. Fox tracks. The mousemaid knew it was pointless to pursue. There were more urgent matters to attend to at the moment.

She hurried over to the prone mouse and rolled him over, kneeling beside his body. Fione put an ear to his chest, relaxing when she detected a pulse. Then she took a moment to examine him.

The mouse was lean and muscular, with golden fur and jet-black headfur. His attire was completely inappropriate for the cold weather, but also unlike anything worn around these parts, consisting of a sleeveless deep red tunic with a thick black sash around the waist, baggy black trousers, white ankle wrappings, and black cloth shoes with white soles.

It was a Shanwu – it had to be. Fione knew their diaspora resided in faraway East Mossflower: they kept to themselves and maintained their own language and traditions. But what was one doing so far out west? She had certainly never seen a Shanwu in real life before, let alone up close. It was then that Fione realized then that she knew next to nothing about them. Tidbits of "information" from _A Detailed Fielde Studie_ were now flashing across her mind. He was foreign; he could even be dangerous. But he was alive, and he needed her help.

Without another thought, Fione looped her arms underneath the unconscious creature's shoulders and started dragging him all the way back to Redwall Abbey.

She didn't stop until she had reached the abbey's front gates. By now, the sun was setting, and the temperature had turned noticeably colder. The mousemaid's whole body ached like it had never ached before; her headfur had long come undone from its messy ponytail and was now plastered to her forehead. But she had made it. Fione carefully set the Shanwu down, giving her exhausted limbs a well-needed stretch. She looked back at the trail she had carved in the snow, amazed that she had come this far.

The Shanwu had not stirred the entire way. Fione checked his pulse again. To her horror, his heartbeat seemed weaker this time. This was enough to galvanize her into action. The mousemaid started banging away on the twin steel-reinforced oaken gates, shouting at the top of her lungs. "Help! Somebeast open this door quick!"

The gates opened and Brother Eryalus trundled out, rubbing his eyes. "Woke me up from my afternoon beauty sleep, young 'un…what's goin' on?"

"This creature's been hurt," Fione panted. "Help me get him inside."

The Recorder took one look at the mouse and gasped. "A...a _Shanwu_?"

"Never mind that, we need to get him to the Infirmary now! Help me carry him!"

"Oh, yes, right away!" nodded Eryalus. He took the unconscious creature's footpaws while Fione grabbed his shoulders. Holding the mouse between them, they hurried indoors.


	2. An Unwanted Guest

**Chapter 2: An Unwanted Guest**

* * *

Fione and Eryalus sat in a cubicle in the Abbey Infirmary, watching anxiously as Sister Millicent administered to the unconscious Shanwu. The mousemaid couldn't stop fidgeting. "How is he, Sister? Will he live?"

The tall, wrinkled Infirmary Keeper peered down the length of her nose at the mouse, whose head she had wrapped up in bandages. "I've dressed his wound. He'll be fine. It would seem he was attacked by robbers." She clicked her tongue in disapproval. "That's what happens when you stray too far from Guild-owned highways. Now, if you'll excuse me, there is a squirrelbabe with a stomachache I must attend to."

Fione stared at the creature lying motionless on the bed. "But he hasn't moved since – " She looked up to see that Sister Millicent had vanished in a swish of curtains.

"So much for good bedside manner," remarked Brother Eryalus, offering the mousemaid a tankard filled with warm October Ale. "Thirsty?"

Fione accepted the beverage, not taking her eyes off the Shanwu. He looked so peaceful, lying there like that. It was hard to believe that he was the monster the books described. She, on the other hand, was bursting with questions. What was his background? What was he doing in Mossflower? Where was he headed?

The mousemaid was distracted from her thoughts as the Shanwu began tossing and turning in his sleep, muttering incoherently. Relief flooded through her. "Eryalus, look!" she said, her eyes wide.

The Gatekeeper noticed as well. "Well, by thunder, young 'un, looks like he'll make it after all!"

Reaching over, Fione shook the mouse gently by the arm. "Hey! Hey, wake up."

She jumped back as the Shanwu sat bolt upright, breathing hard. Fione and Eryalus watched breathlessly as he collected himself and gauged his surroundings.

"H-hi," ventured the mousemaid. "How're you feeling?"

The mouse's hollow brown eyes briefly acknowledged her before wandering the cubicle. The unfurnished space, with coarse-looking curtains comprising its walls, bore no resemblance to the snowy meadow he last remembered trekking through. He didn't remember there being a bed either; nor a pillow, a fat squirrel, or a bright-eyed mousemaid staring at him.

Fione flashed him a wide grin. "You're at Redwall Abbey!"

The Shanwu barely heard her; his head was still throbbing with pain. Reaching up, he gingerly stroked the bandages wrapped around his head.

"Oh, er…they cleaned your wounds and bandaged you up," Fione explained rather quickly. "You were hit upside the head and knocked unconscious. I found you lying in a meadow..."

"Fione," muttered Eryalus as he eyed the Shanwu's facial expressions.

The mousemaid continued to ramble. "…You were in pretty bad shape, so I brought you here. Sorry if I made your injuries worse; I had to drag you through the snow…"

"Fione," said Eryalus, a little louder this time.

"What?"

"I don't think he understands you."

Fione finally noticed the mouse's blank expression. "D'you speak Mossian?" she asked.

The Shanwu stared at her, saying nothing.

"Alright, alright," said the mousemaid, taking a deep breath. "My – name – is – Fione. What – is – yours?"

The Shanwu just blinked.

"I'm – " she said, pointing to herself, " – Fee-yohne." She pointed to him. "You are…?"

"_Fee-yohne_," the Shanwu repeated. He had never seen anybeast with so many freckles.

The mousemaid nodded, barely able to contain her excitement. "I'm – Fee-yohne. You are…?"

The Shanwu blinked again. Whatever this place was, it wasn't the Second Mount. But the mousemaid seemed friendly enough, if not slightly overenthusiastic. "_Jin_," he replied.

"Jin?" Fione repeated, not quite nailing the pronunciation.

_"Jin."_

"Pleased to meet you, Jin," beamed Fione, extending her paw in greeting. Jin recoiled, clearly not wanting to be touched again.

The mousemaid retracted her paw. "Sorry, guess you don't really shake paws. Let's see…oh, I know!" She offered him the tankard of October Ale Eryalus had given her. "Here, drink this. It'll make you feel better."

Jin warily accepted the vessel. He took one sip, gagged, and spat the putrid liquid out onto the floor.

Fione cringed as he passed the tankard back to her. "Then again, maybe not."

Jin nodded, trying to convey his thanks. Now that pleasantries had been exchanged, it was time for him to go. The Shanwu tried to rise, but a sharp pain spiked through his head, preventing him from standing.

Fione was by his side in an instant, being careful not to actually touch him. "Easy! You have to rest."

"Well then, who is this?"

The mousemaid turned at the familiar voice. "Father Abbot!" she exclaimed, bowing respectfully. "This is Jin. I found him today while I was out gathering firewood. He was hurt, so I brought him back for treatment. I don't think he speaks Mossian."

Julius, Abbot of Redwall, was the spitting image of a stern Abbey patriarch, from his plain brown habit to the square spectacles perched high on his graying muzzle. The middle-aged mouse pursed his lips as he stared at Jin, who stared back. "I don't think he belongs here, Fione."

The mousemaid blinked. "What d'you mean?"

"He's a Shanwu," Julius replied, and when Fione raised an eyebrow he continued. "The Guildmasters will not be pleased to see him in our Abbey."

"Why?"

Julius adopted a tone as if lecturing a Dibbun. "Surely you know, having lived at Redwall for your entire life, that the Shanwu disrupt the honest business conducted by Mossflower's Guilds?"

Fione's blue eyes blazed as she glanced at the Guild logos engraved on the tankard she was holding, printed on the Infirmary curtains, and carved into the headboard of Jin's bed. "Really? I think they're doing just fine, if you ask me!"

"His presence would anger the Guilds - " began the Abbot.

"He was going to _die_! How could you turn him back out into the woods?"

Julius' expression darkened. He did not like being challenged. "Very well, Fione. He may stay for the time being. But seeing as how you brought him into our Abbey, you shall be responsible for him as well. Maybe you can teach him our ways and _civilize_ him a bit."

The mousemaid glared daggers at him.

Sister Millicent's head popped through the curtains. She had evidently been eavesdropping on the entire exchange. "He can't stay in the Infirmary, Father Abbot. I need to make room for more patients."

Julius cleared his throat. "There is a vacant room at the end of the Dormitories' east wing. Brother Eryalus, do you have the keys?"

The portly squirrel scoffed. "Huh, I'd hope so. The Gatekeeper has keys to every lock in the Abbey – "

"Good," interrupted the Abbot. "The Shanwu will stay there until he is healed. Fione, you are to make sure he does not leave his room. Bring him three meals a day, after the others have eaten. Once he has recovered, he shall leave Redwall Abbey at once."

Fione opened her mouth to protest, but Julius silenced her with a wave of his paw.

"I will not hear any more on this subject. After you see to it that he is settled, you will join the rest of us at dinner." With that, he was gone, leaving Fione and Eryalus with Jin.

Fione turned towards the Shanwu, whose expression was blank and uncomprehending. What had she gotten him into?

* * *

Brother Eryalus, on the other hand, was thrilled at Jin's arrival. "You don't know how long I've been waiting for this, young 'un. I've always wanted to learn more about your people. Maybe tomorrow, you and Fione can come by the Gatehouse for some tea and I can interview you…"

"Eryalus, please!" Fione cried as the three of them walked upstairs to the Dormitories, braving the rush of Abbeybeasts streaming in the opposite direction toward the Great Hall. "You know he can't understand us. And in case you haven't noticed he's still hurt!"

The scholarly squirrel peeped over from behind the stack of pillows and blankets he was carrying. "Sorry, young 'un, you're right. I'm just so excited to finally meet a real Shanwu."

Fione stayed closely behind Jin, guiding him down the hall toward the room Julius had specified. "Well, at least give him some time to rest. He can barely walk."

Eryalus nodded. "Of course, of course. Well, don't keep him cooped up for too long. I'd love to get to know him!"

They reached the room at the end of the hall. The Gatekeeper set down Jin's sheets and bedding. Removing a large ring loaded with keys, he fumbled through several unsuccessful ones before locating the correct key to Jin's door. "There ye go, young 'un! Enjoy your stay!"

The door creaked open and Fione escorted the Shanwu inside. Eryalus did not go in with them. "Well, I have to join the elders downstairs. I'll see you at dinner, Fione!" With that, the squirrel hurried off, muttering: "A real Shanwu! By thunder, I never thought I'd live to see the day!"

After lighting the candles in Jin's new dormitory, Fione made the Shanwu's bed for him. "Here you go, Jin, nice and cozy for you to sleep tonight. Sorry about Brother Eryalus. He's easily excitable, but he means well. So, what d'you think?"

Jin sat down, nearly sinking into the mattress. It was so soft that he momentarily forgot about his journey to the Second Mount. He realized it had been a while since he had slept in a real bed.

Fione read his expression and smiled. "Glad you like it. These rooms are _so _nice. Mine is just down the hall, actually. So if you need anything, just let me know!"

Seated on his bed, Jin pointed at her. _"Fee-yohne?"_

"That's me!" beamed the mousemaid. "And you're Jin!"

Jin nodded.

"I'll be back with some food. Stay here," said Fione. Seeing that she was leaving, Jin got up to follow. The mousemaid shook her head. "No, no," she said, gesturing with her paws. "Stay. Here."

The Shanwu seemed to back down. Fione smiled and exited the room, closing the door behind her.

She was halfway down the steps when she remembered that she had left her staff in Jin's room. The mousemaid turned and ran back to where she just was, knocking on the door.

"Jin? It's me again. I just need to get my – "

She opened the door, and her jaw dropped.

Jin was gone.


	3. Dinner With the Guilds

**Chapter 3: Dinner With the Guilds**

Fione tore down the Dormitory wing, calling Jin's name. "Jin! Jin, where are you?...'Scuse me, coming through…have you seen a mouse about this tall? Golden fur, red tunic, black trousers? No? Alright, thanks…"

The last of the Redwallers were trickling into the Great Hall for the banquet. Maybe Jin had gone downstairs with them. The mousemaid hoped that this was not the case.

The Great Hall was packed by the time she entered. The only seats left were the ones at the far end of the room closest to the exit. Feastgoers chattered excitedly among themselves as they attempted to get a glimpse of the Guildmasters at the front of the room.

Fione walked up and down the crowded aisles until she spotted Jin taking a seat at the table furthest away from Abbot and the other elders. The Redwallers sitting in the Shanwu's immediate vicinity got up and left. She ran over to him. "What are you _doing_?" she hissed.

Jin looked at her blankly.

"You're not supposed to be down here! Go back upstairs!" Fione ordered.

Jin grabbed a turnover from the plate in front of him. Fione slapped his wrist, all pretense of not touching him forgotten. "Put that down! You'll get me in trouble!"

As Jin put the pasty back, staring longingly at the tables piled high with food, it became clear to Fione that he wasn't going anywhere. "I – you – ahhh! Fine, you can stay. Just keep your head down so the Abbot doesn't see you!" Sitting down next to him, she peered over at the Abbot's table at the other end of the hall. There Julius sat, surrounded by seven adult mice dressed in fancy different-colored robes. The rest of the elders, including Brother Eryalus, sat around them. Curious to see what the mousemaid was staring at, Jin followed suit.

"That's the Council of Guilds," Fione explained. "The Guilds are trading companies. There are seven of them in and around Mossflower. Each Guild specializes in something, like fishing, medicine, or blacksmithing."

The mousemaid's eyes fell upon a tall, middle-aged mouse with albino fur seated directly to the Abbot's left. "The one in the fancy green robes is Guildmaster Leopold. He controls the Inland Western Guild, the one that we Redwallers trade with. They're the newest Guild, but they've gotten really wealthy because they'll make and trade just about anything with us. I heard Leopold is trying to expand into East Mossflower, where no Guild has gone before…"

She stopped upon seeing Jin's stare of total incomprehension. "Oh, why do I bother? It's not like you can understand me…"

Guildmaster Leopold seemed to whisper something in the Abbot's ear. Juilus nodded and clinked his glass. "Please join me in saying grace."

The Great Hall fell silent at once.

Fione clasped her paws together and bowed her head, motioning for Jin to do the same. "Do as I do," she whispered, as Julius began speaking, his voice reverberating throughout the Great Hall.

"Come spring forth, and wash away

The dreary cold of winter gray

Let golden sun and falling rain

Breathe life into the land again

May we prosper; may we build

Under guidance from the Guilds

For they are giving, good, and fair

Thus they we honor in our prayer."

This was followed by a resounding _amen_ from the feastgoers. The Abbot raised his goblet. "Hail, Guildsmasters!"

"Hail, Guildsmasters!" saluted the Redwallers in unison.

"Hail, Abbot Julius!" replied Guildmaster Leopold.

That was the cue for the Redwallers to dig in. Jin grabbed a turnover, wolfing it down in two bites. The Redwallers sitting nearby shot him dirty looks.

Fione was aware they were staring. "Here," she said as he grabbed a second turnover, using her own fork and knife to cut the pasty into several pieces for him. "Better?"

The ravenous Shanwu quickly demolished the second turnover as quickly as he had the first. He reached for a third one, following the mousemaid's example and cutting it into little pieces with his utensils. Fione was impressed at how fast he was learning.

"Hey, look at the savage trying to eat with us civilized beasts!" came a familiar, sneering voice from behind. Conor had left his seat at the elders' table and was now roaming the Great Hall with his little gang of friends, who chortled dutifully.

One of his followers, a wiry mouse named Benji, hooted with laughter. "Hahaha! Emphasis on 'trying', eh, Conor?"

Fione scowled at them. Virtually all of Conor's followers had bullied her when they were Dibbuns. Now, they flocked to the biggest bully of them all.

"Ignore them," she said, lifting some wintergreen salad onto Jin's trencher.

Conor hurled a piece of bread at the Shanwu. It hit Jin square in the back of the head. Jin turned, staring straight at the blond mouse.

"We got through to him, mates, the dumb beast!" jeered Conor, and his cronies hooted with laughter. He motioned for Jin to go over to him. "Come here, don't be shy!"

Fione looked around. Nobeast seemed to notice what was going on over the noise of the banquet. "Jin, don't," she urged. But the Shanwu got up, approaching Conor.

"You know, we don't want your kind here," said the blond mouse in a calm but menacing tone.

Jin stared at him, not understanding a word. Conor stared back, the corner of his mouth curling into a grin.

Fione bit her lip. Conor was a full head taller than the Shanwu, with a much thicker physique. He could kill Jin if he wanted to. Strangely enough, Jin didn't seem intimidated at all.

Seeing as the blond mouse had nothing more to say, Jin turned, starting back to his seat. Conor noticed this and immediately blocked the Shanwu's way. "Where're you going, Jangy?" he asked loudly.

The use of this slur turned more than a few heads. Several nearby Redwallers had stopped eating and were now starting to stare at the two. No matter which way Jin tried to go, Conor moved to block him. The blond mouse's lackeys roared with laughter as their leader started dancing around him, his fists raised.

"Come on, you savage. Don't you know how to box?"

He pushed Jin.

Fione was on her footpaws in an instant. "Leave him alone, Conor!" she cried. At this point, some of the curious Redwallers had begun to form a ring around the two opponents. Conor's lackeys strayed behind their leader, egging him on.

"C'mon, Conor! Hit 'im an' let's be done with it!"

"Aye, knock him back to his homeland!"

But Jin's mind had already left the present; his dark eyes seemed a million paces away.

_The tiny monk sat on the ground, nursing a black eye while a larger monk berated him._

_"How many times do I have to beat it into your stupid little head? When an older monk walks by, you bow!"_

_ The novice sniffled. "S-sorry, sir, I didn't s-see you – "_

_ "That's no excuse! I ought to teach you a lesson!"_

_Jin placed himself between the victim and the bully._

_ "Step aside, latecomer," growled the bigger monk, "before I snap you like a twig."_

_ When Jin did not move, the bully's features contorted with rage. "That's it! Get ready for a world of hurt!"_

Conor's insult brought Jin back to the present. "Hey! I'm talking to you, Jangy!" he shouted. Seeing the Shanwu so unreactive had infuriated him. "Can't speak? Well, this'll loosen you up!"

He threw a vicious right hook.

Quick as lightning, Jin sidestepped. Thrown by the force of his own punch, Conor fell forward, his head striking the floorstones.

It took a few seconds for everybeast to register what had happened. Nobeast said a word. Fione could only watch, dumbstruck.

Conor's followers rallied around him as he staggered to his footpaws. A bruise was forming on the bully's forehead where it had struck the ground. He glared at Jin, his eyes smoldering with hatred. "You're dead, savage."

"ENOUGH!"

Everybeast turned to see Abbot Julius walking up rapidly, flanked by several otterguards. "What is this, Fione?" he demanded, red-faced. "I want him out of the Abbey _now_!"

Fione placed herself between Jin and the Abbot in an instant. "That's not fair! He was just defending himself!"

"NOW!" repeated the Abbot. The mousemaid glared at him, not moving a single step from where she stood.

"Perhaps I can help settle this," came a calm male voice.

The crowd parted silently as Guildmaster Leopold stepped forward. The albino mouse resembled Conor in almost every way, only older and thinner.

Julius seemed to shrink under the creature's presence. "G-Guildmaster Leopold! I-I am truly sorry about this. The Shanwu wasn't supposed to be at tonight's dinner; he wasn't supposed to be here at all…"

Fione couldn't believe her ears. "Wasn't supposed to be here? Isn't Redwall supposed to help the sick and injured?"

Leopold chuckled. "No need to kick him out, Father Abbot, especially during a momentous occasion such as this. All are welcome within Redwall Abbey." He turned to Conor, who was nursing his injury. "As for you, I expected better from Redwall's future Abbot. Go clean yourself up."

"Yes, father," muttered the blonde mouse. Gathering what dignity he had left, he walked briskly out of the Great Hall, shooting Jin a deadly glare.

Leopold turned back to Abbot Julius. "My son can be a little impatient at times, especially when dealing with the Shanwu. They _are _a testy bunch. You are very generous to offer their kind shelter."

"Their _kind_?" Fione asked through gritted teeth, but Leopold offered her no more acknowledgement than a glance as he continued, his expression hardening.

"That being said, I think a punishment is in order for these two. There's nothing like some good, honest manual labor for a dishonest Shanwu and a nasty-tempered maiden who speaks out of turn."

"Excuse me?" started Fione, but Julius silenced her with a glare. "I know just the task, Guildmaster." Turning to the mousemaid, he declared: "If Jin can walk, then he can work. Tomorrow after breakfast, the two of you will scrub the Great Hall from top to bottom until it is spotless. Then you will escort Jin back to his room. I don't want to see him wandering the Abbey unsupervised ever again." Pausing, he looked back at Leopold. "…Is this what you had in mind, sir?"

The Guildmaster nodded, looking satisfied. "That'll do, Father Abbot."

Julius turned back to the pair of young mice. "Go to your rooms and stay there until tomorrow morning."

"Gladly," Fione spat. "C'mon, Jin." Grabbing his paw, she marched off toward the stairs without another word.

* * *

Fione couldn't stop ranting as she walked Jin up to the latter's room. "I think it was disgusting how they treated you. How could they take Conor's side after what he said and did? The nerve of some creatures! I have the right mind to go smack them all upside the head! Aye, I said it! Standing there while you're being bullied like that! Unbelievable!"

Jin was too exhausted – physically and mentally – to even acknowledge her presence. After a day of being beaten up, rescued, attacked, and yelled at, he just wanted to be left alone.

They reached Jin's room at the end of the hallway. Fione sighed deeply as she opened the door for him. "I'm sorry, Jin. I wish you could understand me. You don't deserve to be treated like this." She ushered the Shanwu inside. "Try and get some sleep. We have chores tomorrow."

As the mousemaid closed the door behind him, Jin lay down on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He didn't understand these creatures at all. Perhaps he never would.

The little food he had eaten was enough for now, but he knew he would be hungry again in the morning. The Shanwu closed his eyes, drifting off to the sounds of the feast continuing downstairs without him.


End file.
